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I didn’t have to fake the smile that appeared when I thought about Max, because I’d spent hours replaying that almost kiss. I still wasn’t sure what to make of the sudden rush of chemistry, that white-hot spark that’d come out of nowhere, but I also wasn’t too worried about it.
“I’m actually going to another wedding with him in a couple weeks,” I said, still grinning, and that made her face transform into an expression of relief.
“You have no idea how happy I am to hear this,” she said, looking more like a friend than a boss. “Because I really do think that if you get your personal life on track—and people around here know it—there’s no way you won’t be a VP in the very near future.”
fifteen
Max
Sophie:Any business coming our way?
I was sitting on the patio at my parents’ house, drinking a glass of after-dinner Scotch with my dad. They’d had everyone over for a cookout since it was a gorgeous Saturday that felt closer to July than May—high of eighty-five—and we were watching the Cubs on their outdoor TV.
I texted:Who is this?
Sophie:Your partner in crime.
Me:You’re going to have to be more specific.
Sophie:I put a bride in a headlock the last time we were together.
I texted:Again, you’re going to have to be more specific.
She was good at surprising me, and this was no exception.
Because she fucking called me.
Sophie Steinbeck.
I set down my glass before walking away from the patio and lifting the phone to my ear. “Hello, Steinbeck.”
“Hello, Parks. How’s every little thing?”
“That depends. Why are you calling me?”
“Just wondering if there’s any objecting to be done.”
“I thought you said you have a life.”
“I do, but I suddenly feel like saving someone else’s.”
I suspected there was more to it than that, but I rather enjoyed figuring her out. She was like a stubborn puzzle who didn’t want to be solved, which made me want to toss all the pieces into the air.
And then solve it anyway, just to piss her off.
“I actually got a call last night from an old friend’s cousin’s bridesmaid’s aunt, but I’m turning it down.”
“Why?” she asked, sounding somehow insulted that I’d pass. “Why would you leave an old friend’s cousin’s bridesmaid’s aunt hanging?”
“Because it’s a black-tie wedding about an hour away. Very wealthy people, very stuffy event.”
“So...?”
“So that sounds awful.”
“No more awful than the ‘Thunder Rolls’ wedding we attended last month.”
“True,” I said, noticing that my mother had come outside and she and my dad were watching me. “And the woman did offer me ten grand.”
